She Who Shaped the Black Ink
by Tortuga The Dandelion
Summary: A naive mouse weaves a dark tale, unknowingly giving the world new life.


She who shaped the black ink...

Doomed forever to weave the words of the world. She who dared to put quill to parchment, her quill head soaked in the unending black ink.

Her first words sealing her fate...

"Adventures of a Wayward Mouse, by Roosen Longtail, Recorder of Redwall Abbey. "

Oh how the naïve mouse wrote her tale, having only just found the mysterious inkwell hidden deep within the gatehouse records room. Under stacks of chronicles, recipes, and magnificent tales, she found a box, covered in ancient runes, and tightly bound by an old metal lock.

The box having been locked away by some beast rather recently, an old acquaintance of mine...

The young recorder took note of this, and decided the box had been opened and then locked away by one of her predecessors. She was right to think this, but any sort of terrible thoughts eluded the mouse. How could such a small box hold anything dangerous? Though, she hesitated for a moment before opening the box, and to her surprise she found it.

The inkwell. My home.

She laughed, a smile spread across her lips. Any worry she might have had vanished instantly.

She took the inkwell, setting aside the box that had housed it for a century before. She sat at her old and worn oak desk, resting the inkwell to her left, with fresh parchment laid before her.

She never once thought it was odd to have an inkwell, bound and hidden from time. Still wet, and usable.

She who shaped the black ink...

With quill in paw, she dabbed softly at the dark liquid. Carefully, she pressed the tip against the brown parchment.

A burning sensation assaulted the mouse with each word scratched into the parchment.

She did not falter, she did not slow, even when tears rolled down her furry cheeks. What was supposed to be just a hobby had turned into something much more.

Her tale weaved and her heart pumped, soft at first, her breathing calm, but with the first words came the increased heart rate, as if the mouse had to pump the blood for the story itself.

A burden carried by those that shape the black ink.

She gave life to her first character, a female mouse named Roosen Longtail. Perhaps this young recorder longed for more than the easy life the abbey had given her? Only time will tell. 

This young mouse, trapped inside the walls, forever to be a peaceful bumpkin. Through her words, however, breathed not only new life into the real world around her, but also new vigor into herself. The freedom of the quill strokes was intoxicating, and rightfully so.

The power of the inkwell seeped into her body, turning what was once pain into pleasure. She shivered in delight with each stroke, her oddly long tail wiggled as her whole body shook in ecstasy.

"Sister Longtail?" 

Of course, another Redwaller had to interrupt the grand tale my young mouse had begun to prepare. My hold on her was guaranteed, however. She has felt the pleasures that come with my use…

She will return.

"I-I… Ugh… I'm back in the study!"

Roosen coughed and shuddered, her ink stained paw dropping the quill onto her desk.

She shook her head, trying to clear herself from the mysterious trance she had seemingly fallen under.

She leaned back in her chair, the only clothing covering her body was her white undergarments. She had tossed her green habit to the corner as she wrote, though she did not recall doing so.

She shifted, but immediately paused, and spread her legs, being greeted by a slight wetness. The sweet aroma wafted up to her nose, making her twitch slightly.

Her cheeks went a rosey red, ashamed that her own musings could excite her this much. Tales weaved into parchment were not meant for sexual pleasure, but she felt it nonetheless and she admittedly wanted more.

Paw steps towards her door reminded her that she had a guest. Snapping back to reality, she hopped up, quickly snatching her green habit and tossing it over her head. She pulled it down, covering herself just as her door pushed open.

"Sister Longtail?"

A squirrel that went by the name of Tulip poked her head inside the small study. She was a pretty squirrel, young and perky. A light brown fur covered her entire body, save for her creamy belly and cheeks. She was an assistant cook in the abbey kitchen. She wore a flour coated apron over top a simple green tunic.

"Why hello, my friend! What brings you to my study, this morn? Sit sit!"

Roosen pulled a chair from under a stack of old scrolls, sending them sprawling to the floor. She beckoned for her friend to take the seat as she found her own.

"Would you like some tea?"

She asked the squirrel as she fumbled around the gatehouse looking for the pot of tea she had gotten that morning.

"No thank you, Roosen." Tulip added quickly, knowing full well how forgetful the young mouse can be.

"I just thought I'd pay you a quick visit before the preparations for the midsummer feast began. Have you found any of those old recipes yet? Ya know, the creamy tarts old Friar Poppy used to make?"

Tulip's big bushy tail twitched and wiggled, she seemed awfully nervous. Roosen took a moment to study her friend, she seemed distracted, her original intentions lost. Her nose twitched and her cheeks went a deep crimson.

"I have not found the recipe, and I'm gonna be completely honest with you. I had forgotten…"

Roosen trailed off, her gaze fixed onto her friends paw. She had grabbed her tail, holding it close to her maw.

"Forgive me, Roosen, but… do you smell that?"

The squirrel finished with a deep inhale through her nose, and her maw enclosing around her bushy tail.

Embarrassment shot through the poor mouse as she blushed up a storm, trying to close her legs tighter than they were before. That wasn't enough to block the overwhelming scent coming from Roosen. My power had already seeped into the minds of the two females and slowly they both forgot the conversation at hand, the mouse had given up on hiding the wetness that betrayed her arousal.

This was to be expected. The young mouse had poured her deepest desires into her writings, and those feelings penetrated the atmosphere surrounding the black ink.

Roosen soon found herself embracing the taller squirrel, their previous conversation completely forgotten as the power of my ink spurred the females onward. The two had quickly tossed their clothing to the side, not even bothering to lock the gatehouse door. It was primal, no thoughts, no regrets. Just as Roosen had written.

Roosen lay naked against the warm fluffy chest of the larger squirrel as they panted together, their inner thighs and maws soaked in their mixed fluids. Basking in their post coital bliss, and gently licking each other's faces clean. Finishing with a small nuzzle.

Roosen was immensely happy to finally fulfill her deepest and darkest fantasy.

With their love making now over, the two cuddled for a moment, sharing one last kiss as they got to their feet. There was no shame evident in either of the females, they acted on what they thought were their own feelings and both loved each other for it.

I have a feeling that squirrel had a crush on the young mouse, making the written fantasy come alive easily. Adorable.

With their bodies cleaned and dressed again, they said their goodbyes and planned to meet again soon. With that, Tulip left. Leaving behind only the intoxicating scent of her female musk.

With a twitch of her muzzle, Roosen smelled the air, taking in her lover's scent one last time before turning her attention back to me. My power of course drew her back, this mouse was naive, yes, but was no fool, surprisingly enough. She understood what just transpired, and she wanted more. The ink called to her… I called to her.

With quill in paw, she pressed the tip against the paper. Each paw stroke she continued to weave new life in the world, unknowingly giving real life to each character. This "Wayward Mouse" she wrote of, it was the embodiment of what she wanted to be. She didn't want to be the recorder of this dreadful abbey. She craved adventure, she craved sex, she craved everything she wasn't supposed to. Now, with the power of the ink, she was consumed by by this need, her mind and body now completely surrendering to me.

"Over the red wall"

The title of her first chapter, fitting for the life she so desperately yearned for.

"And with an outstretched paw, she claimed the mighty sword of Martin the Warrior. Carefully pulling it from the wall in which it had rested for untold seasons before her."

With sword in paw, her persona ventured over the red wall, braving the outside world for the first time.


End file.
